


Back Home

by HighwayMan91



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighwayMan91/pseuds/HighwayMan91
Summary: A three-part backstory of the Highway family set in 1990/91, where Jonno returns to civilian life - and there's an addition to the family.Contains mild language.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway & Stuart Highway, Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_ Thursday 21st June 1990 _

Jonno has only returned home from the army for the last time recently, yet this is the first chance husband and wife have had to spend the evening in each other's company.

His new job as a site manager for a medium-sized construction company is still in its honeymoon period, and he's still getting to grips with coming home in the evening with little energy – or desire – to do much, but all signs so far point to a successful start in his new career.

Returning from work day after day has taken less time to get used to, and the routine is more pleasant than being in camp; hearing what his wife did that day hadn't become mundane, and he thinks he's starting to break the ice with his son, who seems to have become the archetypal teenage lad since last Christmas.

Tonight doesn't require much in the way of effort on his part; they're only going to the "Pig", where some of his former army friends are coming along to watch the England versus Egypt match in the World Cup, so chinos and a polo shirt should be the right mix of respectable and casual.

To make sure his wife doesn't feel isolated, he's made sure the lads are bringing their wives along.

-

In the bathroom of their two-bedroom flat, Jonno's wife applies the finishing touches to her make-up.

If it'd been a long time since her husband enjoyed an evening at the local bar, it'd been an eternity since she allowed herself the same indulgence.

The last time she'd even consumed alcohol was when he came back for leave at Christmas; she made sure Stuart had gone to bed before she treated herself to two glasses of sherry from the bottle one of her family members gave her as a present.

While Jonno has an insatiable appetite for booze, she's already set herself a limit for this evening of just two glasses of white wine; even if the men or women she's mildly acquainted with who'll be company for the night try to persuade her otherwise.

With her ablutions in the bathroom complete, Jonno's wife walks to the living room where her teenage son is sitting watching a programme about football on TV.

Like the dress she's put on this evening this evening, what Stuart's wearing is also a present bought out of her husband's severance package.

The look of genuine surprise on her teenage boy's face when he pulled the official England shirt for that year's tournament out of the bag his father handed him is something she'll remember fondly for a while – she'd never seen Stuart look so happy at a gesture from his father before.

"You still watching the match 'round at Mickey's place then?"

"Yeah, I'm heading out just after you go," replies Stuart.

Although Jonno didn't let on to her, she's aware the two lager cans he bought earlier and put in the fridge were really intended for his son and his friend - while she'd normally disapprove the thought of her child drinking under-age, the joy she felt at his attempt to bond with their child made the prospect more acceptable.

She tells her son, "Mind how you go, then."

Not taking his eyes off the TV screen, Stuart says, "I will."

She calls back down the hall, "You ready now, Jonno?"

"Yes, darlin'," Jonno adds as he leaves their bedroom behind.

"Be good, Stuart," his mother remarks before leaving her son to his own devices.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, son!" interjects his father.

Stuart rolls his eyes as the front door to the flat clicks shut.

-

By the time Jonno and his wife reach the Pig, the venue is almost full to capacity.

The TV set is positioned on a table, on top of another table, with ashtrays acting as makeshift casters.

The Highways knew the planned time of arrival was 7.30pm to coincide with the start of the football, and sure enough, Luciano Pavarotti's rendition of _Nessun dorma_ , accompanied by classical images of Italian culture and global football legends, resonates around the busy bar room.

A strong sense of anticipation and excitement buzzes in the Pig; the air full of relevant talking points:

_Would Gary Lineker score tonight to keep up the form from Mexico?_

_How do we cope without an injured Bryan Robson?_

_Are we taking Spain or Belgium on in the next round?_

Given how many punters are packed into the Pig, Jonno isn't able to detect the presence of his friends yet, and leans towards his wife, attempting to be heard over the hub-bub.

"Let's go to the bar first, then we'll find them, eh darlin'?"

His wife offers three-quarters of a smile back.

She's never great with crowds as it is, but she never lets on to other people.

She wished she could tell someone – anyone – about wanting to abandon her trolley in the supermarket when it's busy, or feeling a sense of panic when she's passing the bustling Tube station around rush-hour time – or how she'd really rather not be spending her evening in the local boozer.

Somehow succeeding in finding a spot at the bar where he'll get served quickly, Jonno shouts his order in to a female member of staff: "Pint of bitter and a large white wine, please love!"

_She deserves it_ , he reflects as he waits for the drinks, _especially if it makes her come out of her shell_.

A shell she struggles to emerge from; as her interaction with the men and women around here is minimal.

On the few occasions when she reacts to her surroundings, she uses facial expressions as a mask.

A smile, but no sound of laughter, when the conservation is, somehow, to her sense of humour.

Stealthy and subtle eye-shifts when the bawdiness of the group is not to her taste.

Plenty of nods to display interest in what's being told to her, even if she could care less at what's being said.

Jonno hasn't spotted, for sure – he's too busy knocking back the pints which are placed down in front of him to take any notice. He certainly didn't notice she didn't finish her large glass of wine from when they first arrived at the Pig.

The worst time comes when Mark Wright scores the winning goal in the 58th minute; the ecstatic roar which erupts across the bar, the subsequent cheerful celebrations and impromptu sing-a-long come close to torture for a woman who wishes she wasn't there.

-

Goodbyes exchanged with his friends - old and new - the couple set off on their short walk from pub to home.

Sighing with profound sense of contentment and satisfaction, Jonno tries to puts his arm around his wife as they walk, "What a night, eh love?"

Allowing her husband's physical exchange as she can't face the moment turning sour if she didn't, she observes: "It wasn't too bad."

Unbeknown to a beaming Jonno, the masquerade continues.

He lists the reasons for his upbeat mood; "A win in the footy, catching up with old mates, and spending the night with my gorgeous lady... can't get any better for me!"

_A new topic of conversation may make it better for me_ , she feels.

"I hope Stuart's had as nice a night – and he didn't drink more than he should've."

Pretending to sound surprised, Jonno challenges his wife: "What? Our Stu, the timid mouse? Takes after you, he does."

"I know you got those cans of lager for him and Mickey. I just hope that's the only alcohol he's had tonight."

"He's a lad," remarks Jonno, "What's a few bevvies gonna do to him? Make him squeak a bit louder?!"

"He's 13, John..."

"And you never drank until you were 18? I don't remember that!"

_He's right_ , she thought, _but I had to grow up fast_.

"...and he's got school in the morning."

Jonno knows at the back of his mind she's right, but he can't help taking it further: "They won't be doing much lessons tomorrow, I reckon."

He can feel the stare his wife is directing at him, and decides it's best to concede defeat; "Give him two paracetamol in the morning and he'll be fine."

"It's good to see you taking interest in our boy, Jonno."

With sincerity, he adds, "It'll take time, love, but I'm gonna try my best."

"I know. Let time just take its course."

_It's worth a risk_ , thinks Jonno.

"And what about us, then?"

"Us?"

"Are we gonna be alright?"

"Why, don't you think we're not?"

"I didn't say we weren't."

The couple slow down the pace of their walk until they're at a standstill; Jonno removes his hand from his wife's shoulder and they turn to face each other.

"With me not being around, with the boy, with everything changing; I guess I'm just worried too much will change too soon," Jonno states with more honesty than he'd have anticipated.

His wife, looking into his eyes, adds: "Things are changing, Jonno. But to me, they are changing for the better. You're back, you've got a new job to look forward, you're gonna be here for Stuart when he's getting to a stage when he'll really need his Dad around... and you've got me too."

As soon as the words rolled off her tongue, she surprises herself at how sincere she's just sounded – genuinely sincere, at that.

This time, however, she's not lying to herself – or to her husband; perhaps this time, she believes things could – will – change.

One of Jonno's eyebrows arches in response to his wife's words, yet his gaze is now transfixed on her in this moment of clarity.

"Really?"

"Properly."

This declaration leads Jonno to lean in to give his wife a kiss, which she accepts. Hedging his bets, he draws his lips in for a second embrace, but his mouth meets one of his wife's fingers.

She has his number, and her assertiveness in this situation even takes her aback.

"Shall we go home?"

Jonno withdraws, retaining a close distance to his wife so she can tell he's not offended at her blocking his display of affection – and that he wouldn't mind continuing in the comfort of their own flat.

"Let's do that, love."

Accepting meekly the renewed offer of his arm to wrap around her shoulder, Jonno and his wife carry on their journey home.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Monday 25th March 1991 _

On the back of a piece of scrap paper atop the desk of his Portakabin office, Jonno has written two lists of names; a selection he's been mulling over for the past few weeks.

_ Boys _

_Mark_

_David_

_~~Gary~~ _

_John (Junior)_

_ Girls _

_Joanna_

_...?_

He reasons that the list for potential boy's names is longer as he'd love his wife to bear him another son; one who'll uphold the Highway tradition of doing his duty for his country; Stuart has always shown a lack of inclination to follow in the footsteps of his Dad, his Grand-dad and preceding generations of Highway-men.

 _My boy needs a short name which says 'No bullshit'_ , Jonno thinks.

Mark has always been his front-runner; after all, it was Mark Wright who scored the goal in the match the night he's certain his imminently-due second child was conceived.

David remains his second choice – again, last year's World Cup is an influence; although he thinks it's naff whoever writes the scripts for his wife's beloved _Coronation Street_ thought along similar lines.

Gary got ruled out quickly; having Christian name and surname both ending with a "y" sounded a tad wimpy; likewise, he's never contemplated flash-in-the-pan names like Jason and Chesney as they don't convey the image he's projecting for his second son.

Naming a daughter is trickier for the Dad-to-be-again; all he can think is she's gonna be a Daddy's girl, so why not take a feminine form of his own name?

He's dropped a few hints to his wife of his preferences, but he knows, ultimately, she has the final say – after all, she's the one who's carried him, or her, for nine months.

There's no time to dig his mind for further inspiration, as the telephone, positioned behind his name list, rings – is this it?

Clearing his throat as he picks up the receiver, he answers the call: "John Highway?"

"Hello, Jonno; just your Dad here. Any news yet on Junior the Second?"

Trying not to sound miffed, he says, "Nothin', Dad."

-

He keeps looking at the clock above the Portakabin door as the working day proceeds at what seems like a snail's pace.

Even though he's appointed his most experienced team member as the gaffer, with strict instruction of not to interrupt him unless absolutely necessary

The boys knock his door with a litany of mundane queries about the tasks they've been delegated for the day.

Telephone calls from his superiors asking for updates from the site, from merchants chasing up invoices or confirming upcoming material orders.

The one call he's holding on for has to come when he has to leave his office for a toilet break.

On leaving the Portaloo, his gaffer runs across to him.

"Jonno... the hospital's just called."

Already with his line manager's permission to take immediate leave when the moment came, Jonno darts back to his office to get his car keys.

-

"Mr Highway," he greets the receptionist at the maternity ward desk of the Newham General.

"Ah yes, Mr Highway... did you receive our message," the reception acknowledges.

"To be honest, one of my work colleagues did, and I just dashed here as soon as."

"That's fine, so you'll know your wife remains in the delivery room?"

Trying not to sound like he's not fully aware of the current situation, he retorts: "She is?!"

"I see here your wife has given consent for you to be present in the delivery room; I shall just ask one of the nurses to come and escort you, if you'd like to take a seat over in our waiting area."

Exasperated, Jonno nods his head and says, almost with a whisper, "Thank you."

-

Minutes later, a nurse is leading Jonno towards the delivery room.

He's happy he's here right now; he'd missed Stuart's birth as he was one of his two tours in Northern Ireland, and it would've be a disappointment – he'd even concede it would be slightly heartbreaking – if he were to miss out this second chance.

"Now, Mr Highway, if you'd like to put a gown for us before we go in," the nurse adds, as she heads towards a store room.

"Yeah... of course..." – the nerves are becoming more apparent for the man.

-

Suitably attired, the nurse holds open the door to the delivery room, where, at last, the noises inside drift outside.

"...Keep breathing, that's it, not long now..." assures the person who Jonno recognises as the midwife.

Jonno shuffles into the room, and at first sight, finds the atmosphere incredible.

While his wife is mainly surrounded by hospital staff, he can make her out on the bed.

One turns around and acknowledges Jonno: "Oh, here's the Daddy! Would you like to come a bit closer?"

For just a second, Jonno is hesitant as he's still adapting to the environment, but he's forthcoming to the request.

In closer proximity to his wife, he realises his wife is in the last stage of giving birth; indeed, he's sure he can see the head emerging.

"We see the head... short breaths now, darling, you're doing great," the midwife proclaims.

 _You are doing great_ , Jonno thinks; he wants to speak his mind, but he wants to let the people who know what they're doing do what they need to do.

He is scared right now, but a good sort of scared; a scared he's never felt in his life, not even on any of the missions he undertook in the army.

With some final exertions, it's all over.

The loud cry of the newborn makes a tear fall down Jonno's cheek; he'll allow himself this one moment of weakness.

"It's a boy," the midwife announces as another member of staff readies some blankets to shroud the newborn in.

Jonno beams at his wife as she cradles their new arrival.

The most perfect woman in the world, and now, a most perfect little boy too.

-

It's a couple of hours afterwards when Jonno, now accompanied by Stuart, still in his school uniform, are allowed a chance to visit mother and child.

Both men are delicate in their approach as they enter the ward; not just in mind of their own family, but the other families in attendance. They can feel some pairs of eyes glancing their way, but each of their attention – and their affection – is afforded to just two people.

"Congratulations, Mum," says Stuart fondly.

His mother, still drowsy from all she's had to do today, returns the gesture.

"Thank you, big brother," which makes Stuart blush slightly as he takes a seat at his mother's side.

Jonno glances toward his son - cleaned up and already with a band around his tiny arm, and cooing as he lies in the cot at the foot of his mother's hospital bed.

"Can I hold him, darling?"

His mother gives an approving nod; "Of course."

With the utmost of tenderness, Jonno positions his arms out as he was instructed at the pre-natal groups he'd attended alongside his wife.

"Careful," Mrs Highway can't help but offer a tinge of concern as her husband scoops the baby up from the cot.

"It's OK, I know what I'm doing," Jonno responds, hoping his tone comes over as reassuring as it's intended.

The child now in his arms, Jonno looks down at his head as it rests against the crook of his arm; little eyes staring upwards, mouth wide open.

"Hello son," Jonno says gently and patiently, and with a creak in his voice at the warmth stirring inside him.

The baby coos back at his father, who can't take his eyes off this new and wonderful thing in his life.

"What we gonna call him then, eh?" chips in Stuart.

Without averting his stare from the baby, Jonno intervenes: "Let your Mum rest for a bit before we talk about that, eh son?"

"It's fine," Mrs Highway interjects, "I think I've narrowed it down to two now."

He's definitely a Mark, thinks Jonno, still cradling the boy.

"I'd thought, maybe Benjamin..."

Jonno hopes the scoff he's tried to keep in at his wife's ridiculous suggestion hasn't been heard.

 _Private Benjamin_ , Jonno thinks as he smirks, _he'd get a real, proper bollocking over that._

"...but I'm now liking Callum..."

Jonno keeps a watchful eye over his younger son as his wife continues to labour her point.

"...My folks'd love it because it's Scottish, like Stuart."

 _Callum Highway_ , Jonno ponders, _Know what, that's not bad at all._

Stuart throws his two cents in: "That's a nice name that, Mum."

_It's not too long and poncy, it's got the Scottish connection to keep her folks happy, and it sounds proper distinguished... Sergeant Callum Highway of the Scots Guards..._

"Callum it is, then," the father remarks.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Thursday 8th August 1991 _

"Could one of you please give me a hand getting this pushchair off the train?"

Her 14-year-old son immediately volunteers himself to transport the buggy which is carrying his five-month-old brother onto the platform at the railway station.

Wearing a pink summer dress, the mother knows exactly why her husband isn't forthcoming to her request; his attention is distracted by the location they've just arrived at, and where they need to change trains to get to their final destination on this sunny August morning.

"Jonno," she calls, with the merest hint of impatience, to her husband; she wonders why he even bothered taking the day off work if his head and his heart's not in this.

"Eh?"

"We need to get off here and change trains."

"Oh, yeh," her husband mutters as he rises from the seat to follow the rest of his family.

-

The connecting service from Colchester pulls in to the seaside resort the Highways are heading to today; like scores of others with the same intention, they alight and proceed down the platform, through the concourse, and turn left towards Clacton seafront.

-

"Are we leaving the pier until it calms down a bit later, then?" asks Jonno of his wife.

"I'd really like to walk along the parade and have a look at the shops," she asserts, "And if we can, I'd love to get onto the beach so I can let Callum out of his chair for a bit."

Mentioning her younger son's name leads the lady to peer slightly over the pushchair so the back of his head comes more into her line of sight.

"We do want to be beside the seaside today, don't we, baby?," she says softly to the boy who, for the first time in years, has given her a new lease of life.

-

This was an unfamiliar landscape to the baby's eyes; all he's seen before is the environment around Canning Town.

Now, there are sights and sounds he's never experienced before.

It's a lot to take in; but it's new, bright and exciting.

-

"You alright, Stu?"

With his wife engaging with the baby, Jonno addresses his other son.

"Yeh, thanks," Stuart replies.

"We're not just here for the little 'un, y'know," his father adds.

"I know," the teenager mumbles.

In a tone which, while jokey to a stranger, Stuart rightly surmises as standoffish, Jonno commands, "Lighten up, son!"

-

The spinning, shiny sails of a toy windmill, placed in a rack outside a gift shop along the parade, makes the eyes of the boy in a pushchair go wide.

"Oh, what's that, Cally?" his mother says, acknowledging her younger son's fascination as the slight breeze blows the sails around, creating a mesmerising, glowing kaleidoscope.

"Shall we get one for you, baby?"

Before she can reach inside her bag for her purse, Jonno delves into one of the pockets of his shorts to check how much loose change he has.

"Here y'go darlin, there should be enough there for ya," he adds as he passes his wife over the coins in his hand.

She's pleasantly surprised at her husband's act of kindness. _There's a first time for everything..._ she ponders, _...must be the sea air getting to his brain_.

"Thank you, Jonno," she adds; for a change, without a degree of surprise – or sarcasm.

He turns round to his older son: "Fancy one, Stu?"

His eldest lad does his best to sound mature rather than disinterested: "You're all right thanks, Dad."

"Bit too big and bad now for kiddie stuff, huh? P'rhaps a Kiss Me Quick hat is what you're after, might help you get yerself a girlfriend," chuckles Jonno as he nudges Stuart's arm.

The teenager feels his cheeks redden as he reluctantly follows the rest of his family inside the shop.

-

Having enjoyed his mother walking him along the sand with tender sporadic splashes of sea water against his feet, Callum keeps as tight a grip of his windmill as he can as his mother steers the pushchair he's been placed back into towards the pier entrance.

Strolling just a step behind, Jonno tries to engage his elder son in conversation again.

"You goin' on the ghost train, eh son?"

Nonchalantly, Stuart responds: "Dunno."

"Too much of a pussy, are ya?" jostles his father.

Knowing that saying nothing will aggravate his father more than a witty retort, Stuart decides tactfully to measure his response; "It might be rammed with people wantin' to have a go, won't it?"

Jonno can only hum at his teenage son's avoidance of his bait, as the family advances past the arched entrance to the pier.

-

Holding on to the wrapped portions of take-away fish and chips they've purchased, the Highway family approach a vacant bench and seize the opportunity to occupy it before someone else does.

The parents sit close enough to share a large portion together, while Stuart - eager to distance himself from his father as much as he can get away with - perks himself on the far edge of the bench with his own smaller portion, placing his can of Coke on the seat.

Few words are exchanged while the food is enjoyed; even Callum appreciates the couple of tiny chips he's given - blown cold by his mother first so they're safe for him to eat, and washed down with a few feeds from his bottle.

As they feast, the sun shines down on the family as the breeze still blows, indicated by the continuous, gentle movement of Callum's toy windmill.

 _I wish it was like this all the time_, she considers.

 _I wish it was like this all the time_, he considers.

 _It's not that bad today, innit_ , Stuart considers.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters featured in this fiction are (c) BBC.
> 
> I believe the following work falls under the principle of 'fair dealing' as covered by Sections 29 and 30 the Copyright Design and Patents Act 1988 in the United Kingdom.
> 
> "Back Home" playlist on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32xdFJwKt1GqzYlzphbGq7?si=N2k0AqL4Q0u-wtvwes0W6Q


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